


fucking him over

by witchertrashbag (intothegarbagechute)



Series: Wine Aunt Smut Asks [23]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/pseuds/witchertrashbag
Summary: to fill the following prompt:shitty prompt time: modern!au emhyr and geralt are having the custody fight of a lifetime over ciri and have angry hatesex whenever they meet in private to try and work it out.
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Wine Aunt Smut Asks [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666225
Comments: 16
Kudos: 148





	fucking him over

**Author's Note:**

> Relatively dark but not non-con/dub-con: Geralt's self-hatred really shines in this hatefuck.

“He does this on purpose, you know.”

Geralt gritted his teeth as he and Yennefer, his close friend, ex, and currently his custody lawyer, waited for Emhyr to show, every part of him tensed with anticipation.

“We could always arrive later, Geralt.”

“No. Then he’d be on time. Just to fuck with us.”

Sure enough, thirty minutes later Mr. Emreis swept into the room, his lawyer in tow, looking polished as ever and smug as shit, his power practically wafting off of him. Geralt grinded his teeth so hard he saw Yennefer flinch.

Two hours later, Geralt could no longer feel his teeth or his face, and although Emhyr’s composure seemed air-tight, a vein in his forehead was pulsing so strongly Yennefer kept staring at it, waiting for it to burst.

“I know you don’t give one single shit about her! Not one!”

“Mr. Rivia,” Emhyr purred, his eyes glistening menacingly. “How dare you.”

“Why don’t we end here for today, hmm, Vilgefortz?”

“Fine idea, Ms. Vengerberg.”

The two began shuffling their papers to cover the sound of Geralt and Emhyr putting themselves back together. Geralt felt Yen’s hand brush his back, checking in and helping lead him out, but he didn’t budge. He was still breathing hard, embarrassed about his outburst, hating how Emhyr could crawl under his skin like this with so much at stake. Hating how it felt like a game to Emhyr, and how he always seemed to fall into his trap. 

They exchanged a glance and he quietly shook his head at her, and she left the room with Vilgefortz. He needed some time alone. Time to think, to breathe, to process what had just happened. He needed to punch something, to be perfectly honest.

Suddenly he heard a sharp breath across the table and realized Emhyr _was still there._

 _“_ We don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” Geralt felt his voice resonate through him.

“I’ll stop anytime you’re ready to give up,” Geralt growled back.

“And why would I do that, when you look so delicious all worked up like this?” Emhyr asked with a cruel grin, which only grew crueler as he watched Geralt’s brain short out.

Because right next to his hatred of this man was his humiliation at what they’d done together, what they kept doing, almost every single time they met. Flashes of the past flickered through his mind, quick memories of Emhyr’s head thrown back, his Adam’s apple exposed as he moaned, the feeling of Emhyr’s bony hands gripping his hips, the sensation of him filling Geralt, fucking into him rough and fast, taking what he wanted. Geralt felt his cock hardening in his suit pants, desperate to feel that again, feel used by this man who was already fucking him over in so many other ways.

Geralt looked at Emhyr and found he was watching him carefully, a predator waiting for his prey to make the first wrong move. But Geralt was also a hunter. He felt the heat rise in him as a very bad idea came into his head.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to get me worked up.”

Emhyr said nothing; he just leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Come here,” he said quietly, commandingly.

His heart pounding, Geralt rose from his seat and slowly walked around the giant boardroom table that filled the conference room. He could feel the weight of Emhyr’s gaze on him and it sent shivers across his skin. He did his very best not to strut, not to change his pace, knowing Emhyr was unabashedly drinking in his muscular form as he moved, the way his dress pants clung to his ass and thick thighs. The way his sweater draped off his chest, his already overly-invested nipples.

As he approached Emhyr, he realized he had no idea what to do. He knew he would sink to his knees with just a word. But he desperately wanted to force a reaction from Emhyr, too.

So he slid onto the table, his legs wide on either side of Emhyr. Leaving him almost eye-level with Geralt’s cock, which became more observable by the second.

And Emhyr observed. He stared. He very slowly drew his gaze up Geralt’s body, sizing him up, inspecting him, until he met his eyes. Geralt felt a bony hand on his knee.

“Show me.”

Geralt did his best to keep eye contact, to not let Emhyr see anything on his face, but knew he was blushing.

“If you want something, you’re going to have to show me,” Emhyr drawled, leaning back in his chair again, his hand still on Geralt’s knee.

“No.”

“Then I suppose this meeting is over,” Emhyr sighed and removed his hand from Geralt’s knee.

Geralt let out an involuntary grunt.

“Oh?” Emhyr asked, the question belittling. As though he already knew what Geralt would do.

Geralt looked away, blushing, as he slowly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, letting them slide slightly off his hips.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, drawing his cock out of his briefs, and gave it a few easy strokes.

Emhyr looked up at him with a smug, knowing smile. Geralt thumbed over the head of his cock and held back a hiss of pleasure, trying to stay calm. He would not let Emhyr see how much this, touching himself on command, was affecting him, even if he could see how aroused it made him.

Emhyr grinned, leaned forward, and suddenly took Geralt’s length into his mouth and down his throat in a smooth motion. Geralt let out a whimper at the hot, tight wetness surrounding him, at the devious way Emhyr’s hand snaked up his thigh, at the way his other hand grabbed his ass to pull him closer. Emhyr released and took him down again, coaxing out a low moan.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispered.

Emhyr eased off with a wet pop and sat back in his chair like a cat with the cream.

“Forearms on the table,” he said softly, and Geralt found himself flush further with anger, humiliation, and a swelling desire. “Quick now, or someone will find you like this.”

The thought of someone finding Geralt giving himself over to this man twisted something within him, and he found himself easing off the table and turning, obeying, placing his palms and forearms on the table, pressing his ass back for Emhyr.

“Like this?”

What he didn’t expect was the long mirror on the opposite wall, showing him exactly what he looked like. He watched, startled, as Emhyr rose and stood behind him, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Geralt’s white hair was already slightly mussed, his suit rumpled, and Emhyr was watching him hungrily. Geralt found he couldn’t take his eyes from what he saw.

“Good boy.”

A thrill ran through Geralt. Emhyr roughly pulled his trousers and briefs off his hips and down to his thick thighs. Geralt could feel him palming at his ass, groping freely, inspecting, savoring possessively.

“Very good.”

Geralt shivered again, then saw him slip a tube of lube out of his trousers pocket and smirked. Knowing Emhyr wanted this-- Geralt found himself arching and glancing back at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hoping for this, were you?” Geralt asked him.

“I knew you’d be desperate for it, Geralt,” Emhyr answered coolly as he squeezed a little lube onto his fingers, easily capping the tube and spreading the fluid around one-handedly. “I don’t want to hurt you. Too much.”

Geralt inhaled sharply as Emhyr’s fingers pushed right inside of him, inspecting and testing, challenging.

“If you want me, just fucking take me.”

“Not until you’re ready for me,” Emhyr said, curling a finger and brushing it just so, to make Geralt choke out another moan.

“Hush, or someone will hear you,” Emhyr cooed evilly. Apparently satisfied, Geralt felt him withdraw his fingers and let out a tiny huff of disappointment, then felt Emhyr wipe his fingers on his round ass.

Geralt glanced up into the mirror to meet his gaze, to make sure Emhyr knew how much he hated him, even as he let him do this to him.

Emhyr stood behind him and held his hips tightly as he lined up and slowly pressed into Geralt.

Emhyr was true to his word. Every inch burned, but Geralt was determined not to flinch. He pressed his teeth together, hard.

“Too much?” Emhyr asked wryly.

“Can hardly feel a thing.”

Annoyance marked Emhyr’s face, and he thrust the rest of the way in in a single snap, jerking Geralt’s hips forward, trapping his cock against the edge of the table. Geralt grinned, knowing he was getting under Emhyr’s skin.

Emhyr leaned in close, draping over Geralt so he could speak right behind his ear.

“I’m going to use you, Geralt. Just the way you like it.”

Geralt shivered as Emhyr straightened and kept to his word. He fucked into Geralt roughly, curling the end of each thrust to just tease at Geralt, to give him just enough pleasure within the definite pain that the heat kept building in him. 

Geralt caught sight of himself in the mirror, at the wanton, desperate look in his eye-- his hair disheveled now, face flushed, mouth wet and open. And Emhyr behind him, not a hair out of place, in total command, hands gripping his hips so tightly the skin was white. Yet Geralt could feel him grow harder, feel his thrusts begin to stutter slightly, had been fucked by him enough times to know he was close.

Geralt met his gaze and licked his lips, smirking. “You disgust me.”

Emhyr grabbed his hair and pulled him up slightly, snaking his hand forward and gripping his throat.

Geralt gasped with pleasure as his hand tightened, thumb pressing against his vein.

“Such a filthy slut.”

Geralt moaned against him as Emhyr kept thrusting hard and fast. He could feel how fast his heart was beating, see how flushed he was. Geralt wriggled, pushing back against Emhyr, then brought a hand back to grab his ass.

He felt Emhyr inhale sharply-- that was the only indication he had that he came.

Emhyr still held his throat tightly. Geralt began to feel dazed as he felt Emhyr soften within him, felt a slight sticky hot wetness creep out of his ass. He looked into the mirror, in an almost dreamlike state, and saw Emhyr’s hand snake around, felt it circle his cock and begin to stroke.

“Absolutely filthy.”

“You seem to like it enough,” Geralt whispered.

He saw Emhyr frown, felt him stroke harder, and found himself gasping and bucking into the touch. He was so overstimulated, the lack of oxygen making him dazed and tingly...

“I should leave you passed out right here,” Emhyr growled. “Let someone find you with your leaking cock out, cum dribbling out of you like the used slut you are. Maybe they’d have a go next.”

Geralt could barely breathe, barely moan, wondered if Emhyr would really do it, and the image of it, the danger of it pushed him right to the edge.

Geralt felt Emhyr release the hand on his throat, instinctively choked in a breath, felt the cool oxygen flood his system and his release follow. Emhyr clapped a hand over his mouth to smother his moan and kept stroking him through the orgasm, even as Geralt hissed and writhed against the overstimulation.

Finally Emhyr released him, removed his hands, and slid out of his ass. Geralt watched, gripping the table, as Emhyr quickly tucked his cock back into his trousers, glanced in the mirror to brush a few strands of his salt-and-pepper hair back into place. He looked almost the same as when he’d walked through the door a few hours earlier, but Geralt noted with pleasure the slight edge of anxiety in his eyes, in his movements. Maybe he’d finally gotten under this man’s skin.

“Leaving so soon?” Geralt asked wryly.

Emhyr turned and looked at Geralt like he was looking right through him. Geralt was suddenly very aware of how fucked out he knew he looked, and of the cum making its way out of his ass. He quickly tugged his briefs and trousers up. 

Emhyr patted his cheek and quirked an eyebrow at the cum streaked across the boardroom table.

“You’d better clean this up. I’m afraid I don’t have time to watch you do it with your tongue, like you’d like.”

And with that he buttoned his suit jacket and swept from the room, leaving Geralt stewing.


End file.
